


Give Me A Kiss

by izazov



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Feels, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: What Obi-Wan wants after another day out in the field is sleep. What he gets is not quite sober former Padawan.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 15
Kudos: 959





	Give Me A Kiss

Obi-Wan freezes in the entrance to his tent, blinking at the sight of his former Padawan, sprawled across his cot, and beaming up at him.

  
  


"Obi-Wan!" Anakin exclaims enthusiastically, pushing himself into a sitting position. "You're here."

  
  


Sighing, Obi-Wan walks inside, then waves a hand, closing the flaps behind himself.

  
  


"I see you've joined the men in the celebration," Obi-Wan says wryly, walking up to his desk in the corner of the tent, working on unclasping his left vambrace as he goes.

  
  


Anakin frowns. "Don't do that."

  
  


Obi-Wan places the vambrace down on his desk, then begins to unclasp the other one, giving Anakin an amused look.

  
  


"Doing what?"

  
  


" _ That _ ," Anakin says, pointing an accusing finger in the general direction of Obi-Wan's face. "I'm not your Padawan anymore."

  
  


Obi-Wan pauses in his work, frowning. "Your accusations are becoming increasingly insubstantial, Anakin. I honestly have no idea what I have done wrong this time."

  
  


"You're doing it again," Anakin points out. "Making that disappointed face." He pauses, a crease appearing on his brow. "I think I had nightmares because of it when I was a kid."

  
  


Obi-Wan opens his mouth, then closes it promptly, deciding that silence is the prudent course of action in this instance. 

  
  


He focuses on taking off his right vambrace, viscerally aware of Anakin's eyes on him, his usually blazing Force presence feeling strangely muted.

  
  


Obi-Wan flicks a brief glance at Anakin, and nearly freezes. Anakin is simply sitting there, on Obi-Wan's cot, watching Obi-Wan with an expression that cannot be called anything but serene.

  
  


Waiting.  _ Patiently. _

  
  


"How much drink did you have?" Obi-Wan asks carefully.

  
  


Anakin bristles instantly. "I'm not drunk."

  
  


"I wasn't implying anything," Obi-Wan assures.

  
  


Anakin scoffs. "You're always implying something. That's how you operate."

  
  


Obi-Wan blinks, undecided whether to feel offended or amused. "How I operate?" Obi-Wan repeats, raising his eyebrows

  
  


"You say something in that tone of yours and people tell you things," Anakin says, glaring at Obi-Wan. Even if it lacks the usual heat. "You are doing it right now."

  
  


"It is called having a conversation," Obi-Wan says, struggling to contain his amusement. 

  
  


Anakin snorts. "Is that what you and Ventress are doing every time you meet?"

  
  


Shaking his head, Obi-Wan finishes taking off his second vambrace, then puts it down next to its twin, deciding not to step into that particular minefield. 

  
  


There is a certain softness to Anakin at the moment. Gone is the resentment that seemed to color much of their interactions as of late. Even the helpless frustration that no Jedi has been exempted from since the beginning of the war, is reduced to a shadow of itself. Granted, it is a product of Anakin's less than sober state, but Obi-Wan is reluctant to risk it with a careless word.

  
  


And not only because Anakin seems... almost content.

  
  


"So," Obi-Wan says finally, crossing his arms. "I suspect there must be a reason you are here, and not at the mess tent, where the party is still in full swing."

  
  


Anakin's gaze brightens immediately. "I have a request."

  
  


Obi-Wan blinks, taken aback by the wording. It sounded strangely formal. "What kind of a request?" Obi-Wan says, suddenly feeling wary.

  
  


Anakin pats the cot next to himself. "Come here."

  
  


"Is that an order, General Skywalker?" Obi-Wan asks, amused.

  
  


"Don't be an ass, Obi-Wan."

  
  


_ Well then. _

  
  


"I can hear you perfectly well from over here," Obi-Wan says, grinning widely.

  
  


"I know that," Anakin says, exasperated. Still, there is a warm glint to his eyes that tugs at Obi-Wan's heartstrings. "But I need you here."

  
  


Obi-Wan's grin falters briefly. There has been quite some time since he's felt that Anakin needed him. Or welcomed his presence. He'd… missed it. Missed being certain of his place in Anakin's life. 

  
  


With an intensity he is not willing to contemplate.

  
  


Banishing those feelings, Obi-Wan walks over to the cot and sits down, turning to face Anakin.

  
  


"Well, here I am," Obi-Wan says in a light voice, spreading his hands. "What is it that you need?"

  
  


Anakin shifts closer until their knees are touching, and gathers Obi-Wan's right hand between both of his, his eyes set unblinkingly on Obi-Wan's face.

  
  


Obi-Wan allows it, caught between amusement and something… else. Something Obi-Wan refused to name, but kept tightly leashed.

  
  


"May I kiss you?" Anakin asks, voice soft but steady, and the world around Obi-Wan comes to an abrupt stop.

  
  


_ What? _

  
  


"What?" Obi-Wan asks, barely recognizing his own voice.

  
  


"May I kiss you?" Anakin repeats, more insistently this time, his gaze flicking briefly toward Obi-Wan's mouth. 

  
  


"Anakin, if this is your idea of a drunken joke, it is in poor taste," Obi-Wan says, voice clipped, ignoring the thudding of his heart. 

  
  


Obi-Wan tries to rise to his feet, but is stopped by Anakin's near desperate grip on his hand.

  
  


" _ No _ ," Anakin exclaims, eyes wide with panic. "What are- This is  _ not _ a joke. I am not  _ drunk _ ."

  
  


Obi-Wan stares at Anakin one long moment. He cannot sense deception, and Anakin certainly seems genuinely upset with Obi-Wan's conclusions. And if there is one thing Anakin is bad at, it is deception.

  
  


Sighing, Obi-Wan tries to raise his hand, only to find out Anakin is still clutching it tightly.

  
  


"Let go of my hand, Anakin," Obi-Wan commands quietly.

  
  


Anakin blinks, frowns, but doesn't let go. "Why?"

  
  


"Because I have need of it," Obi-Wan says, sharper this time.

  
  


Anakin's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Are you going to leave if I let go?"

  
  


"Of course I'm not going to leave," Obi-Wan says, incredulous. "This is my blasted tent, where am I supposed to go?"

  
  


Anakin watches him carefully for a beat longer. Then, reluctantly, he lets go.

  
  


Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, trying to bring order to the chaos of his mind. And calm his racing heart.

  
  


"Now, Anakin," Obi-Wan says after he is sufficiently certain of his control over himself. "Mind explaining what this is all about?"

  
  


Anakin blinks, perplexed. "What? Me wanting to kiss you? Isn't that supposed to be self-explanatory?"

  
  


Obi-Wan gives Anakin a flat look. "Not necessarily. And since when are you interested in kissing me?"

  
  


Anakin looks away for a second, two spots of color appearing on his cheeks. "Since I was fourteen years old."

  
  


Obi-Wan opens his mouth, but finds himself utterly at a loss for words. Bewildered and hopeful and dismayed all at once, Obi-Wan reaches for the Force.

  
  


Anakin, sensing Obi-Wan's careful, inquisitive touch against his mind, catches Obi-Wan's gaze with his own, and lowers his shields.

  
  


Obi-Wan's breath snags in his throat, his entire world narrowing down to the bright, blazing flame that is Anakin's… affection for him.

  
  


There is another word for the feeling Anakin's has bared entirely - its darkness, and heat, and light all at once - before Obi-Wan. A better word. But Obi-Wan cannot acknowledge it. Not yet.

  
  


"Still think I'm drunk?" Anakin says, his voice caught between hope and apprehension, a small, cautious smile curving at the corner of his mouth.

  
  


"You  _ are  _ drunk, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, mildly, belatedly realizing his misstep. A second too late to do anything about it.

  
  


Anakin's gaze hardens, his shoulders going rigid. "I had only two glasses of that red stuff Fives was serving. It made me feel warm and lightheaded." Anakin raises his chin defiantly, as if daring Obi-Wan to contradict him. Which is, quite possibly, the last thing on Obi-Wan's mind. "It did not make me imagine seven years' worth of feelings, Obi-Wan."

  
  


Obi-Wan holds his hands up, smiling apologetically. "Forgive me, Anakin. I- I misspoke. I don't doubt you. However-"

  
  


"There's no winning with you," Anakin interjects glumly. "You couldn't have stopped at 'forgive me, Anakin', could you?"

  
  


"However," Obi-Wan says, pointedly, then continues in a softer tone, "I believe it would be prudent to leave off further discussion concerning--" Obi-Wan glances away, annoyed with himself when he feels heat gathering high on his cheeks, "--us, until at least tomorrow morning."

  
  


Anakin frowns, moving as if to reach for Obi-Wan's hand but deciding against it, curling his hand into a loose fist instead. "Why?" Anakin says, a hint of a whine to his voice. "There's no ne-oomph."

  
  


Obi-Wan has never been fond of acting solely on impulse. But sometimes, just sometimes, thinking is overrated. And leaning forward and closing his mouth over Anakin's feels like the most natural thing in the galaxy.

  
  


Anakin's lips are soft and pliant, and slightly parted, tasting like wild berries with a hint of alcohol. Obi-Wan finds himself wanting to chase the taste, to tip Anakin down onto the cot, so he could find out each and every flavor of Anakin's skin.

  
  


It takes much of Obi-Wan's willpower to pull back, to ignore Anakin's soft whine of protest and his half-lidded eyes. Not to mention Anakin's hands, tangling in the front of Obi-Wan's robes, and trying to pull him back.

  
  


"You owe me a real kiss," Anakin says, petulant, letting go of Obi-Wan when he realizes that Obi-Wan has no intention of cooperating.

  
  


As if following a will of its own, Obi-Wan's gaze flicks down to Anakin's mouth. His throat goes uncomfortably dry at the sight of Anakin's lower lip caught between his teeth.

  
  


"Tomorrow," Obi-Wan says after a beat, his voice not as smooth as usual.

  
  


Anakin's face grows serious, but it is the look in his eyes - naked and vulnerable - that makes Obi-Wan brush his thumb across his cheek.

  
  


Anakin leans briefly into Obi-Wan's touch. "This is stupid, you know," Anakin grouses. "I won't change my mind."

  
  


"I certainly hope so," Obi-Wan says. "Now, go to sleep."

  
  


A wistful expression passes across Anakin's face, but he doesn't say anything as he starts to rise.

  
  


Obi-Wan lets out a sound, fond and exasperated in equal parts. He catches Anakin's wrist and pulls him back down.

  
  


The look on Anakin's face turns bright as a sun.

  
  


Obi-Wan's cot is not really meant for two people, especially if one of them is of Anakin's considerable height. Still, they manage to fit together; lying on their sides, Anakin curled into Obi-Wan's chest, Obi-Wan's hand wrapped around Anakin's back.

  
  


"You'll be here in the morning?" Anakin's voice comes out muffled, but not enough to hide how vulnerable it sounds. "You promise?"

  
  


Obi-Wan exhales deeply, tightening his hold on Anakin and brushing a kiss across his forehead. "You have my word. Now,  _ sleep _ ."

  
  


For once, Anakin obeys without complaint.

  
  



End file.
